


Gentlemen and Ladies

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:16:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: When a quiet little visit to the Pub and a gentlemanly favor takes an unexpected turn, some hard justice is meted out.  Can Garrison and Casino keep the other guys from finding out all the sordid details?  Can the team keep their side of the story a secret from Garrison, just like they are keeping a few other secrets?  Well, hopefully, for his peace of mind, and his faint remaining hope that the association with Meghada O'Donnell will prove a 'civilizing influence' on his bunch of wild cards.  As for Goniff, well, a few of those masks are becoming a trifle more transparent the more comfortable he is becoming with his companions.  Just how much will he eventually let them see?





	Gentlemen and Ladies

**Author's Note:**

> 'Gentlemen' used to be a term used in describing those engaged in smuggling or highway robbery, along with a term for someone perhaps considered a bit effeminate, and, of course, denoting someone at ease in society. 'Ladies' covered the spectrum from one end of female behavior to the other, depending on the context. This story pretty much covers the whole lot.

The mood was jovial at the Mansion. Lieutenant Garrison had decided the guys deserved a treat, and though a pass to London was outside his abilities to deliver at the moment, he thought an evening at The Doves, his treat, might show his pleasure in how well that last mission had gone. {"Think maybe they're settling down, finally. No monkey business, no chasing women, no cons, just getting the job done and done right."} He nodded in satisfaction at that - mission accomplished, and in spite of the temptation of museum-grade antiques, that concealed safe, not to mention the pile of jewelry worn by that extremely attractive supposed countess (and there was a double temptation right there!), the guys had kept their mind on business and hadn't strayed from the task. Goniff hadn't even done any 'shopping' for his Mum!

Casino, broad grin on his handsome face, expressed HIS pleasure right enough. "Couldn't have picked a better night, Warden! Both of the gals will be there, it being Saturday! Should be a hell of a lotta fun!"

Garrison shook his head, "if you mean Nellie and Josie, the ladies will be working, Casino. And as busy as it gets on a Saturday, I doubt they'll be able to join us at the table, you know. And you said both. Meghada will be joining us as well, at least that's my understanding, or are you forgetting about her."

Chief just gave a snort, "Casino's got more sense than to call HER 'one of the gals'."

Goniff added his piece, "And, Lieutenant, she 'ears any of us blokes calling 'er a lady, she'll 'ave our guts for garters, she will! Told me once she dont take kindly to being insulted like that. Don't much care for the fancy, you know, though she can play it well enough when she 'as to."

Craig Garrison didn't even bother to try and respond to that; he hadn't known the volatile contract agent for all that long and was still trying to figure her out. Goniff had been the first to make her acquaintance, then Lynn, him and Lynn then bringing her into contact with the rest of the team, and Garrison still wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, though he had to admit she'd pulled their bacon out of the fire more than once. If anything, she was more difficult to deal with, at least by reputation, than his guys, though the trouble he kept anticipating to break out between them hadn't so far. In fact, when there WAS trouble they were all involved in, so far it was trouble that came to the guys first, with her moving in to line up right there along with them, taking on all comers. He'd put it down to them all being Special Forces, well, sort of, but he was increasingly wondering if that was really it, and that made him a little uncomfortable. He had to admit, while he wouldn't want her as an enemy, well, the thought of her being their friend made him a little uncomfortable too; she was one hell of a wild card to add into an equation that already held enough of those to turn him grey before his time. His more optimistic side told him she could be a steadying force, a civilizing influence on his men; he thought he'd heard another side of him snort in amused disbelief at that bit of naivete.

The officer headed back to his office to get a few things done before they headed out; the men headed back to the Common Room. There, with three of them gathered around the big table, "is the coast clear?"

"Yeah," Chief opened the door an inch to take a fast look, but kept his position where he could hear any approaching footsteps.

"So, gentlemen, what do we have?" Actor started the usual proceedings, "besides my contribution, that is?" laying down a rather lovely miniature in a gold frame. "I believe it to be an Oliver."

Goniff wrinkled up his nose, leaning forward to use one long finger to turn the frame around to face him, looking at it with a great deal of skepticism, "don't know, mate; don't look much like an Oliver to me. Maybe a Olive; lost all 'er clothes somewhere along the way, too."

Actor heaved a deep sigh, "the painter, you clod. Isaac Oliver, one of his earlier works, I believe."

Goniff just grinned at him unrepentantly, and Actor had the feeling he'd possibly just been played, but maybe not. Sometimes he had the feeling the little pickpocket knew a great deal more than he let on; at other times he wondered how the small man managed without a keeper.

Casino reached into his tunic, pulled out a thick envelope and dropped it in the middle of the table, "safe didn't have much else cept those papers the Warden was after, but this was in the desk; should come in handy."

Actor thumbed through the stack of bills, nodding his approval, "very much so, even split four ways."

Chief jerked his chin toward Actor, "gave you what I got earlier," and Actor nodded, "indeed," and pulled out a small black velvet case, snapped it open to reveal six antique jeweled stickpins. "Quite nice, I know of a collector who will pay a goodly sum for these, especially with the paperwork tucked underneath outlining the provenance."

Goniff had peered over at the display, "blimey! Look at em sparkle!" and reached out a hand, only to have Casino slap it away, "you just keep those sticky fingers of yours away! And what about you? You have any luck?"

That got a sly, wicked grin, "w'at's that you keep telling us, Casino? Aint luck, it's skill? Well, w'at do ya think about these?" He reached in through the buttons of his loose tunic front to pull out a long rope of pearls adorned with a gold and diamond clasp; there were three small golden bees interspersed, with tiny emerald eyes. Actor raised his brows approvingly, reaching out to take them, hold them up appraisingly, noticing the excellent matching and the depth of their luster, commenting on it.

Goniff offered in his usual cheeky manner, "been keeping em up against me. You know w'at they say about pearls, need to be worn up right next to the skin to keep them bright n' shiny and all."

Casino snorted, "that means by women, idiot! Someone with nice soft skin to keep the pearls polished."

Goniff pretended offense, lifting his head indignantly, "I'll 'ave you know my skin is soft as can be," then grinning and waggling his eyebrows, "specially w'ere I been keeping them." That got appalled looks by everyone, especially Chief, and a stern exclamation of reproof, "Goniff!" from Actor. He pretended to pout, "give over, mates! Just inside my tunic 'ere!" patting the front of his ribcage just above the waist of his trousers.

He let a look of totally faked shock cross his expressive face, "blimey, guys! W'at were you thinking??! Better get your minds outta the gutter!" grinning to himself at having caught them. The growl from Casino told him he'd pay for that, but in his mind, it had been well worth it, just for that momentary look on their faces. He didn't remember when he had been in company where he felt comfortable enough, safe enough to actually play like that, actually having fun, not just playing the fool for a particular purpose; it felt odd, but good. He figured it wouldn't last, nothing good did, but he might as well enjoy it while he could.

Actor collected all of their goods, and put them in their safe-spot. He'd see to their disposal, and the funds deposited into those four accounts in Switzerland. They were fairly modest now, but he had hopes that could be improved upon over time. A nest egg would stand them in good stead if they made it through this war and got their paroles, or, as often crossed his mind, if the military double-crossed them and they had to make a break for it. With the realities of war, he'd set up the accounts as Principle Owner, TOD to their joint names after discussing it with them; while it smacked somewhat of a tontine, a very dangerous thing indeed, they trusted each other enough to put it into place anyway. And none of them were stupid enough, surely, not to recognize if one of them was going off the deep end like that. Now, Wheeler, they'd never have trusted him with something like this; would most likely have woke up with their throats slit one fine morning, but none of them was Wheeler or anything like. Of course, Goniff had an extra couple of names in his TOD list, his mum and his Aunt Moll; Casino had his mother's name there too; but that was understandable. Actor and Chief had agreed, they really were a little envious of that, of having someone close enough to be included.

Actor intended to beg out of the trip to the pub tonight, claiming a residual headache from the hard blow from that flashlight carried by that guard. In actuality, he would be meeting up with a trusted contact who would be transporting all of this lot on to its next point on the route to conversion from goods to cash. He would have enjoyed the trip to the pub, but he enjoyed the thought of that tidy sum being added to their accounts much more. Not only that, they were overdue for an inspection by the Brass, and the last thing they needed was to be caught with that little haul! Especially since the Warden was feeling so pleased about the way they had 'overcome temptation' on that last mission; he didn't even bother to conceal his grin at that thought. He liked the young officer, appreciated the remarkably fair and considerate treatment they got from him. Oh, he rode them hard in training, in trying to keep them on the straight and narrow, but he wasn't a bully, or deliberately cruel, and tried to make things better for them than almost anyone else would have. This trip to the pub was just one example of that.

Still, he knew Garrison was nowhere near to accepting their more larcenous ways, and there was no sense upsetting him and upsetting all their plans either. No, he would be well content to stay, slip out to meet with his contact when the time came. Afterwards, he would reward himself with a glass of the excellent cognac he'd managed to acquire, and content himself with thoughts of that rather memorable hour he had spent with the not-quite-a-countess. {"She certainly had the right type of skin to be wearing those pearls, if not the pedigree for wearing that title,"} and he smiled to himself at the recollection. He snorted again at where Goniff had implied he'd been keeping those pearls, "jewels among the 'jewels', indeed!", shaking his head at the idea.

**

Nellie McGuire was a rawboned brunette, tall and worn and overworked with trying to take care of her two young sons and her invalid father, but she had kind eyes and a rather sweet smile. The guys liked her; they'd chat her up, flirt, knew she appreciated the compliment and the attention, but both she and they knew it wouldn't go anywhere; she had a soldier husband and she wasn't looking elsewhere, not even for a hour or two.

Josie Deal was a well-cushioned buttery blonde, well, that's what the box called it; she preferred to call it 'sunshine yellow', and sunshine was all to the good as far as Josie was concerned, the more the better. Not overly bright, perhaps, except for the hair, but a goodhearted, goodnatured girl. There'd been a boy before the war, and she'd thought something might come of it, but then he was off and gone. There were letters sometimes, but they were just friendly-like, Tommy seeming to think of her more like a sister, and she wasn't sure she thought of it much differently herself.

Josie, now, she didn't mind a quick tumble every now and then, though never with strangers, only with someone she knew and liked and trusted; didn't expect money for it, since it was for her own pleasure, but wouldn't turn down a mite dropped into her pocket either.

They alternated shifts at the pub, swapped out nights off, and they managed things pretty well. On Saturdays, they were both there, of course, with all the extra traffic, and now, some Fridays whichever wasn't on duty might get a call to come help if it got real busy. They did alright, made ends meet by depending on each other.

The two women lived next to each other, Nellie and her family in the larger cottage, Josie in the tiny one sitting at the far side of the kitchen garden in Nellie's back yard; that little one had been built when Nellie's husband's family had needed extra space for a pair of aging relations, and while it had sat empty for a few years, it had proved handy when Josie's dad, George's uncle, had wandered off somewhere as he was wont to do, and never returned, leaving her at fourteen years of age without a place and damn all to pay for one. They had it worked out just fine. Back then, Nellie got a willing helper with the kids and her father when she needed it, with the house and garden too; Josie got a place to live and food to eat without paying out cash money she didn't have.

Now, these years later, with them both working at the pub and George away at war, Josie paid to have the telephone and put something toward the general expenses; Nellie provided the garden space and seeds and seedlings for food that graced both their tables, them sharing the work. They fixed some meals together, talked over their troubles together, provided each other with occasional comfort and warmth that was no one else's business but their own. Nellie had no problem with Josie having company as she liked; Josie accepting and admiring that Nellie didn't.

Lou and Jake, the two bartenders at The Doves, liked both women. They were good with the customers, did their jobs, didn't complain all the time, and didn't act the whore. Of course, there were occasional turn-ups when some from the Base would think they were available, but the bartenders and the locals put an end to that. And when the O'Donnell lass made it known that anyone trying it on with either of the barmaids once they'd said they weren't interested, well, she'd not take that too kindly either, things got more peaceable. That declaration of hers had been laughed off the first time or two she'd intervened; afterwards, not so much. A quiet one, she was, easy going and reserved for the most part, and one of the most vicious and unrepentant fighters Lou and Jake had ever seen. Most up at the Base and in the surrounding villages and towns just took it as a given, now - The Doves wasn't where you'd go to get a quick toss; there were other places where it was just too easy and much less hassle, and Brandonshire was all the happier for it, Nellie and Josie right along with the rest.

Of course, there were still the ones who tried for the O'Donnell lass herself; seems there were always those with too much ambition and no sense. That never ended well, at least for the men, but she paid for whatever she broke, and there were no hard feelings from the locals about it, not towards her anyway. In fact, it provided excitement sometimes, and they got considerable amusement from it as well. And there were those who made a tidy sum off that pool Big Mike, the ambulance driver, had got up on when and how much damage she'd cause to the next soldier boy making his try. The locals now, well she'd come to live in Brandonshire some six years ago, and it had been at least five years and nigh on eight months since any of the local men had made a try. But, those of Brandonshire DID like to think they were a tad smarter than most, and from that, maybe they were. Well, not Doby, but most everyone else.

Now, the team from up at the Mansion, Lou had wondered at first if they might not have trouble from them when they first started showing up at the pub, and there was some, but not with the women. Nellie seemed to have a soft spot for all of them, but particularly the Indian lad, Chief; Josie had a teasing smile for each, and Jake knew she'd taken the brash one, the one they called Casino, to her bed more than once, and possibly Chief as well. The little Cockney, well, that was anyone's guess, but Jake and Lou agreed that a little cock-robin like that ended up in more nests than some would think likely. The tall dark one, Actor, well, he was pleasant and kind to the women, but they really weren't his style; he saved his encounters for the names in that little black book the others teased him about. And the Lieutenant, he was polite, smiled readily enough, but they couldn't see him dipping his wick anywhere local. The O'Donnell miss saw all that, and after some careful watching, enough to know there was no pressure there, only mutual accord, just sat back and sipped her drink, content to mind her own business as she expected others to mind theirs.

Eventually, the young woman started joining the team at their table, at their invitation, and to the surprise of pretty much everyone, she and they seemed to get along just fine. They'd tease her, she'd give as good as she got. They'd get into their fights, and if it was just them, she'd just back off out of their way, taking her drink with her so as not to let it get spilt, and let them have at it. She seemed to take interest in their fighting styles, some amusement in how well they read each other's tells, would sometimes make suggestions when it was all over, and wasn't that a treat, to hear her lecture them so matter-of-factly about stance and approach and the like, them standing there like schoolyard boys listening to teacher. If it was them against anyone else, though, that depended. Sometimes she stayed clear of it. But if the odds were high against them, or if for some other reason she decided it wasn't a fair fight, she was likely to join in, always on their side.

Jake knew it was Goniff who got her singing sometimes there at the table, and that was something those who weren't there regretted missing when they heard about it from others. That first time, when he'd asked and she'd crooned back, 'Deep As An Ocean', well, the whole bar was stunned. They'd never even known she could sing, much less like that. They'd started asking for songs they liked in particular, and she was likely to supply them, and that made for a particularly good night in sales. More often than not, Old Howie would ask for 'She's Only A Bird In A Gilded Cage', or 'Never Go Walking Out Without Your Hatpin', something of that sort, and while most groaned at such old-fashioned tunes, she had a soft spot for the old odd-jobs man and would usually give in, and everyone had to admit she did them well, and when she pulled out her dagger in singing that one verse, about 'if you show them your hatpin, the men tend to get the point', they thought it hilarious. Now she kept a spare guitar on a shelf back of the bar, along with that 'thinking pouch' as she called it, the one she asked for when there was something pulling at her that she needed to write down quickly.

That was another thing they hadn't known before, that she wrote music, words and tunes, and damned fine at it she was too. The small piano off to the side, rarely played anymore except by her, her even paying to get it tuned properly so that all the keys now did what they were supposed to, it sometimes got a part, when the song seemed to call for it more than that guitar. Some of her own songs, some they'd not heard before, yes, but she was good about doing the ones the other customers asked her for, especially if it was the locals.

Well, except for Doby, and he knew better than to ask if it wasn't something pleasant, and he didn't bother anymore. He'd learned his lesson when after she'd sung three or four that had been requested, he'd shouted out the demand that she sing, 'I'm the Jolly Old Whore from Ballington Towne, I **** all the boys and ******* them down', following with the equally loud, "should be right up your alley, ei, little missy?"; she wasn't amused, nor were the others, and Doby had ended up being tossed into the water trough out back, and surprisingly not by her or Garrison's men, but by Constable Ben Miller along with the recommendation that he head on home before he ended up spending the night in a cell on a charge of 'excessive public stupidity.'

Knew a lot of the old songs, the new ones from the radio and records as well. The visitors from the Base, well, she wasn't so interested in accommodating them, not in that way, nor any other. A temper she had, right enough, for such a sweet voice and easy manner, and the wherewithall to back it up. It was her who laid a beer bottle upside the head of that big bruiser who pulled a knife on Chief, who had his back turned at the time and would most likely not seen it coming in time, no nor anyone else. Lou had laughed when he told Jake about it afterwards, "guy didn't like Josie turning him down earlier, then turning right around to start talking to the Indian kid all happy like. Knew better than to brace Josie, knew no one would let that go, but figured the kid was fair game. Comes up behind hard and fast and quiet, knife held low and out of sight, while the kid was standing there talking to Josie. There was the clunk and crash, kid whirled around and there was her, broken beer bottle in her hand, that fool on the floor, blood on his head, the knife still in his hand. Looked at her, looked down again, then gives her a nod and just says, "thanks," and turns and continues with his talking. She gives a grin like she thinks that's real funny, and it kinda was, Jake; she grabs bright boy by the collar, nods to me and we drag him out to the front, where his friend hussles up to collect him and they hightail it outta there. No fuss, no bother, especially with her still swinging that broken bottle by the neck like she knew damn well how to use it, and damn willing to do so as well. And she paid for the bottle of beer and a bit extra for the cleanup. They do liven up the place, I'll say that."

"Damn good thing they DO get along; imagine the breakage if they didn't!" 

***

"Got a bad feelin."

Meghada tilted her head at Chief, "about what?" She didn't doubt his instincts, and it wouldn't have been surprising for him to have picked up on something she hadn't. After all, she had her pad in front of her, letting the words, the music that had been swirling around inside her head most of the evening finally take over. The bartenders here were accommodating; they kept that pouch behind the bar, pad, pencils all inside, just for when she came down with a serious case of inspiration. Hadn't used to do that at first, not for all her first years here, but not long ago, much to her surprise, the music had come back, and she wasn't about to discourage it, not after those long years she was without it. They weren't in English, those words, not most of them anyway, not when she was sitting here where anyone could see them, could get a glimpse into that rather uncomfortable spot inside her where the music came from. Turns out what was making it so confusing tonight was that it was two songs all twisting together; once she figured that out, she was able to let things start sorting themselves out. It had been rather like winnowing grain, letting one part blow to one side, the other drift to a heap on the ground; once that was done, she'd start working on each, letting the songs form as they wished. She hadn't been ignoring the others at the table, just splitting her attention, and they didn't seem to mind, bless them. Unlike most people, they never seemed to expect more than she was comfortable giving at the time.

Chief and Goniff had been discussing Goniff's assertion that Garrison was just being unreasonable and unfair, not to mention selfish, Goniff pouting just a bit, Chief just saying flat out it only proved that Garrison had a brain. Goniff had just excused himself with a sniff of disdain, casually announcing, "be right back, gotta take a piss," Chief and Meghada exchanging an amused look at that. The little Englishman was usually more careful in his talk when a woman was around, but between having probably more than he should have had from that beer pitcher and being so comfortable with the redhead around, he hadn't even hesitated before making that blunt statement. They watched his slightly wavering progress across the floor.

Chief had a puzzled frown on his face, thinking about what she'd asked him. Then he turned his head sharply to look at an empty table in the corner. He jerked his chin in that direction, "those guys. When did they leave?" The table had held four men, not soldiers, or if they were, they'd been dressed in civilian clothes. Now, the table just held the empty glasses, the filled ashtrays and other debris left over from their occupancy.

"Didn't notice, Lou might know," she offered. When asked, Lou promptly said, "about five minutes ago, just left the money for the tab and walked out. A problem?" Chief just frowned some and shook his head, not in denial but in thought.

Goniff wandered back to the table, started to sit down, then noticed the two of them over near the bar and came to join them. "Don't think the Warden will be any too pleased we order up another pitcher, Chiefy, specially with 'im paying," he warned them, though fully intending to drink his share if they did, only to have Chief turn him around and push him toward the door.

"Come on, hurry," he bit out.

"And where are we 'urrying to?" trying to hold back, still thinking about that pitcher, and Meghada thought that was a reasonable question, one she'd been about to ask herself.

"The Warden, Casino, we need to catch up with them."

"Don't know they'd want us to do that, Chiefy. Might be they might even be a little ticked if we do, you know. Might be they decided to stay on a bit, you know."

Chief just rolled his eyes, "Casino, yeah. The Warden? Come on, Goniff, you know he don't, not around here anyway."

The little Englishman was in an argumentative mood, something too much booze often encouraged. "Now, just cause 'e aint before, don't mean 'e didn't get an itch tonight, does it? The Lieutenant's a good looking guy, for an officer. Maybe Nellie decided to make an exception, you know? Or maybe Josie was feeling really frisky - she does get some interesting notions sometimes."

Meghada resisted rolling her eyes at that outspoken bit of dialogue, {"yes, I'd say they are getting very comfortable around me!"}. Her mind putting Goniff together with Josie and her 'interesting notions' wasn't having quite the same slightly amused effect it would have had if it have been Casino in that mental picture. She sighed to herself and gave her mind a good hard thump, telling it to tend to business.

Chief snapped impatiently, "Goniff! Sober up, damn it. Think they may be walkin into trouble - those four guys from the corner table, left after the Warden and the others did. Somethin off about them; dont know what, but just . . ."

Goniff straightened up, blinked several times, and seemed to change, become several degrees more alert, somehow more steady. Oddly, he just wasn't as drunk as he'd seemed earlier. Part of her was wondering if that boozy haziness was just another mask, or if he just had that strong an ability to snap himself out of it that quickly if need be. "Alright, Chiefy. Yer the one w'at gets the 'unches."

Meghada was right beside them as they moved out at a quick pace, and only gave a curt, "of course" when Chief asked if she had her blades with her. Like she'd be out and about without them any more than he would be! The shock was when Goniff asked for her spare. She handed it over with just the comment, "if there is a problem, probably should try to take care of it with just hands, if we can. We'll know once we catch up what's best. If we do use the blades, try not to make too much of a mess to clean up. Back of the neck, base of the throat, base of the spine are good strike points if you get the chance."

In spite of the seriousness of the whole thing, Chief's lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh at the casual tone of her voice. Goniff just gave her a look of quiet understanding, which, if they hadn't been so distracted by the matters at hand, would have struck them as more than a little strange, him not being one for the hand-to-hand by his own admission and to the Sergeant Major's outspoken despair.

Lou had watched them leave, wondering, worrying just a bit. No, not about the unpaid bar tab for the table; they were good for it, he knew that. It was that he'd asked a favor earlier on. Nellie and Josie were going off duty, and there'd been trouble at a couple of the pubs in neighboring villages. Police hadn't been drawn in, the pubs not wanting to get a bad reputation and put off the paying customers, but word gets around in the trade. Three women, all working the bars, one as a barmaid, the others working the sheets upstairs but with the bar taking their share. All three beaten up, misused something fierce, all while on their way home after work. Four men, nothing special about them, nothing anyone could tell. That there were others targeted too, well, that wasn't on the grapevine, since that hadn't been reported to anyone at all. Those who'd been taken unawares, they just kept close to home til they could pass it all off as remains from 'a fight over in Clevon', or 'motorbike gave me a tumble, it did'; the rest of the damage, they swallowed and tried not to think on it. Wasn't something a man liked to admit happened, wasn't something they were willing to have anyone know. They'd deal with it alone, try to forget best they could.

Now, Lou was on the lookout, watching for any hint of mischief. When the four men had come in, all strangers to him, well, he'd kept a close eye, but they seemed all right, no fuss, didn't pay any unwanted attention to Josie or Nellie, kept to themselves. Had asked a question or two about the ones from up at the Mansion, but that was understandable seeing the guys really had it going tonight, loud and rowdy, with the O'Donnell lass just laughing and letting them carry on, with the Lieutenant keeping just enough control to keep things from getting too out of hand. Still, when it was time for the women to leave, and he'd seen something, though he'd not be able to say just what, just that fast glance from one to the other of those men, Lou had hesitated then went over to have a word with the Yank Lieutenant, asking if maybe two of his men could see the women safely home, saying there'd been some trouble elsewhere. Their cottages weren't far, well, nothing was very far here in Brandonshire.

It was only the three men with the Lieutenant tonight, the tall Italian not being at the table; he'd been told Actor hadn't been feeling quite up to it; he didn't ask for any more details, didn't figure it was any of his business. Was many a time one or them men were absent, showing up later moving slow and careful, like they'd been in a brawl somewhere.

Well, the Cockney had chimed up right fast, "glad to see the ladies 'ome, Lieutenant; no problem at all; shouldn't take more'n an 'our or two. Could just meet you back at the Mansion later, nice night for a walk and all," with a sly and eager grin of anticipation. Casino and Chief had been only a little slower in their response, Chief more restrained in his expression, but Casino had a smirk not too far away from Goniff's. Garrison had snorted as he'd looked at them, "yeah, real gentlemen you are. I'm proud of you all, of course, for volunteering. But I think maybe not you, Goniff. Think you've had a little too much to drink," getting a disappointed frown and pout in return.

"Chief, you think you can keep him out of trouble for awhile til we get back?" and Chief knew he too would be remaining behind. Casino didn't look nearly as happy as you might have thought at being the one selected as escort; with Garrison along, he figured it would be a fast trip, both ways, with no more than a tip of the hat at Josie's cottage door instead of maybe a long, well, layover, you might say, for one or the other of the men. Maybe twenty minutes max round trip, not an hour or two like Goniff had predicted, and that's if they took it slow. Meghada had just watched, listened, her thoughts and feelings swirling around inside, perhaps just a little of that showing on her face. Lou took another glance at her, wondered just what was going through her mind. He shrugged, figuring he'd never know, maybe thinking he was better off without knowing. He didn't understand how most women thought, much less this one!

Nellie and Josie were pleased at the escort home, especially with the Yank Lieutenant being one of the two doing the escorting. They both rather admired him, though he wasn't one to want to get cozy, much to Josie's regret. She thought he might just be a treat. Nellie had to agree; if any of them could tempt her away from her steadfast determination not to let a man other than her George into her bed, she rather thought the blond American just might be the one, if he'd had a mind. Not that she intended to, of course, but just if.

Casino had made the most of it, figuring it wasn't what he'd hoped for, but hey, a walk in the moonlight with a couple of friendly women, well, could be worse. They'd taken Nellie to her door, bid a polite farewell, each getting a peck on the cheek and a smile in return. Josie let them know that she'd have no objections if they both wanted to stop in for a bit, but the almost panicked looks the two men exchanged told her that wasn't happening. {"Too bad, might have been a lot of fun; not like I have to go to work tomorrow!"} She closed the door behind her and headed off to bed, still smiling at the thought.

In the alleyway outside, Garrison and Casino were trying hard not to look at each other though their thoughts were going a mile a minute. Garrison breathed in deeply, {"Both of us. Her and me and Casino and . . ."} There might not be anything specific in the regulations about what Josie had in mind, (just lumping it all under prohibitions against 'fraternizing'), but probably because the Brass just didn't have that much imagination! He was wishing he didn't have that much imagination either, but unfortunately he did. {"Shit!"} was all Casino could say, even to himself. Though his mind did flicker over the possibilities. {"Maybe with one of the others, yeah, but her and me and the Warden?? Shit!!"} The thought gave him the cold shivers.

Both of them were caught up in their own thoughts about that rather incredible offer they'd just received; neither of them were on the lookout for trouble. Hell, they were home! Well, what counted as home for right now. A little village where nothing much ever happened, two war-trained commando types, clear, still night, not two hundred feet off the main way. They'd gotten over their initial reaction, had rather awkwardly started discussing just how drunk Goniff was likely to be by the time they got back, when they were taken in a rush. Before they could realize what was happening, they were shoved off into that little wooded space before you crossed the main road to get back to the pub. 

 

Chief, Goniff, Meghada got there in time to see a raging, struggling Casino being held upright on his knees, blood streaming from his head, hands bound behind him, rope tight around his neck held by one of the two laughing men enjoying his struggles.

"Don't get so excited, don't worry, you'll get your turn; we wouldn't let him spoil it for you. Believe me, there'll be enough left for you! Just sit back, enjoy the show," the taller of the two men told him in what seemed considerable amusement, yanking that rope tighter so that Casino choked in an attempt to get his breath.

Across the clearing, maybe ten feet away, a furiously defiant Garrison was also on his knees, arms bound at the wrists, yanked backwards and held high by the man kneeling on the back of the Lieutenant's calves. Another man was standing in front, one fist clasped in that blond hair, shaking the officer roughly, the other working the openings of his dark blue trousers, freeing himself.

"You heard me, open up, pretty. We've heard talk; seems you guys up at that fancy house have all kinds of 'special skills', 'special talents'. Well, now's your chance to show us just how special those skills and talents really are, isn't that right, Kyle?"

The one behind Garrison agreed, "yes, we're anxious to sample all of those specialties; seems like you were quite anxious to demonstrate them for us, too, from what you said about your friend over there; so selfish, not even wanting him to share in the fun, wanting to keep us all to yourself," sifting his weight forward, eliciting a grunt from Garrison; his free hand moved confidently around to fondle the front of the Lieutenant's trousers.

That one was obviously of the upper classes, from his speech; the one shaking Garrison's head so roughly wasn't, but not obviously from the lower class, just a guy, no one to catch anyone's attention. The commando-trained officer ignored the sharp pain in his legs and what came from that tight grasp of his arms and hair, and heaved up and over, spilling off Mr. Uppercrust into a heap, almost dislocating his left shoulder as his bound arms were twisted violently by his captor in the fall. Mr. Anyone was quick to respond, catching Garrison with a sharp kick to the head, stunning him.

Only brief seconds had passed from the time the three had come out of the shadows; one cold word came from Meghada, "blades", and only a hard nod of agreement from each of her companions. Both the ones holding Casino and the two now moving to kick the hell out of Garrison were oblivious to the three figures moving in fast. They had hardly a minute before that temporary oblivion became permanent.

The three stood still for a moment, Goniff wiping his mouth, gulping in reaction, trying to keep his twitchy stomach in line. "Ruddy 'ell! NOW what??!" looking at the four bodies. This wasn't like on a mission where they'd be out and gone; this was home, and they'd just killed four civilians, well, maybe civilians, though if they weren't, that surely wouldn't help things any. Yeah, they'd deserved it, the bastards, but still, it was bound to be awkward!

Meghada spoke up, "I'll fetch my car; we'll load them in there, don't worry, I'll take care of them. Chief, when we get back to my place and get Garrison and Casino inside, you go get their car; park it round back in that grove back of my wall; leave it unlocked, keys under the seat." She left on a run to go get her car, Chief and Goniff went to untie Casino who was still having some trouble figuring out just what had happened, and search the bodies for the keys.

Garrison was out cold, though breathing alright. Chief asked the obvious question, "what'll we tell the Warden? He aint gonna like this," as Meghada pulled up in her car, got out and joined them.

Goniff looked at the bodies, his initial queasiness subsiding, dark humor now in his pale blue eyes, "tell 'im the truth, acourse. Well, more or less," he added, as his teammates looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Look, mates, it's simple. We decided to meet up with them 'alfway; got 'ere and saw there was a rumble, went to join in. See, that's all true. Then they spooked and ran, they got away. That, not so much, acourse. Last we saw of them, they was in a car, headed out right fast, too fast for us to get the plate number, especially in the dark. We went to looking after Casino and the Warden, got both up to the Cottage for Meghada to tend to things. And Meghada did, tend to things, I mean. Now, all that's true, so more true than not and nothing's perfect. See, no problem," giving them an odd little smile.

Chief and Casino looked at each other in astonishment at that tidy little answer to their problem from someone they would have sworn was more than three-quarters way to being drunk not thirty minutes ago, and when Meghada had given just a little laugh of appreciation, Chief and Casino had to join in.

"Come on, guys, get the Lieutenant in the front seat, Goniff you hold him upright; Casino, Chief, get those bastards into the trunk, on top of the tarp, then pile into the back. And Goniff, remember to give me my knife back." And when she drove off, she even did it quickly, just so that part wasn't a lie either.

A couple of quick quiet phone calls from the Cottage, and a few hours later a car dropped off a shadowy figure near the village where, if anyone were up and about, which they weren't, they would have seen it slide around the back of that cottage on the outskirts, and soon a car, driving without lights of course what with the blackout, moved slowly out of town headed north on the London road. And that she'd moved up her shopping trip to London and surrounds by a couple of days, well, nothing in that even worth mentioning. And no one saw that other car anymore, even if anyone had been looking, which there wasn't any real reason for anyone to do, least not around Brandonshire; well, seems you park an unlocked car down on the docks near the East Side, it just ups and vanishes, like magic.

**  
Pit stop on the first leg of Meghada's shopping trip, tiny landing strip concealed by the crops and barns surrounding it:

"Ian, thank you for the help. I know it's not what you're used to flying up to Haven on your mail run, but I really didn't want to drive all that way and deal with the security crossings; who knows if they might get a wild hair and open the trunk."

"Don't worry, sister. Sharks up along the cliffs will be happy to have an extra treat with their afternoon tea. Unless you want them planted on the far hillside? There's room aplenty."

She looked stonily on the four tarp-enclosed bundles, "no, the sharks will do just fine. One predator having another in for tea; it seems quite fitting, don't you think? Wouldn't have minded these four still breathing and awake when you introduce them to their hosts, letting them all get a good look at each other before sitting down to the meal together, but it's rare a social engagement is totally perfect," giving her younger brother a quiet smile.

He just shook his head in amusement at the Dragon. {"Sweet Mother, it's good to see some of the old fire and whimsy in her again, less ice and sorrow. Don't know what's caused it, but we'll all be the better for it, that I know! WE will be; don't know about the Outlanders!"} He took off for Haven, humming "Tea for Two" with some lingering amusement.

***

 

Craig Garrison lay still, not moving his head, looking around the room trying to get his bearings. Where ever he was, it wasn't laying on the grass in that wooded area, at least. He was half surprised he was waking up anywhere; he'd have sworn the odds were against it.

Cautiously, he took inventory; he had one hell of a headache, his shoulders and arms ached right along with his head, the left shoulder in particular, his ribs felt like they'd taken a good kick, maybe two, and the backs of his legs felt like he'd been hit with a baseball bat. But . . . nothing else, and he closed his eyes and licked his lips in relief, pushing away that flash of memory of that Gestapo Major and his Aide, everything that had transpired in that cold cell in Germany before the guys had gotten him out. He shuddered and focused on the here and now.

He remembered everything right up to where he'd broken away from their hold; after that was a blank up to when he regained consciousness just now on the Murphy bed in a small room filled floor to ceiling with books, shelf after shelf of books, along with a small desk. Goniff was sitting in a chair next to him, hands clasped in his lap, head leaning back, dozing. Garrison took a good look and decided the pickpocket looked pretty much like he felt, though he figured in Goniff's case it was possibly just one hell of a hangover, especially with that green tinge under his pale skin. For Goniff, that particular color came with hangovers; also with sea sickness, air sickness, sometimes car sickness, and after-a-bloody-battle sickness. Face it, their little pickpocket had a twitchy stomach. The Englishman roused, saw Garrison was awake and gave a quick snap of a smile, there, then gone, then back again more broadly.

"Ei, Warden. You're awake!"

"Yeah, I'm awake," Garrison replied, hardly recognizing the harsh rasp of his own voice, "did anyone get the number of that truck??!"

That got a quick if quiet laugh, "didn't see no truck, Warden. You sure you're alright?"

"I said I was awake, Goniff, not that I was alright. I've felt better," he admitted, and for Garrison that was a rare admission, Goniff knew; usually it was "I'm fine!", when any idiot could see he wasn't.

"Well, 'Gaida's got some coffee on, expect that'll get you sorted out some; mixes it in with something she calls 'chicory'; probably melt the spoon if you leave it in too long," he warned, and the short blond eased out of the chair and headed out of the room.

{"Well, at least that tells me where I am,"} Garrison thought. He took another look at those shelves of books, {"somehow I didn't picture her as much of a reader, though I don't know why. Will be interesting to see what she's got up there."} Later, finding herbal medicine and gardening books didn't surprise him so much; the rest did. Books on warfare and philosophy - Sun Tsu and the Dao nestled close to each other on that shelf. Literature - Shakespeare and Swift; Sophocles, Homer and Virgil; Poe, Twain and Wilde; Milton, Dostoyevsky, Dante; Kipling, Cervantes, Proust; Lewis Carrol, Dickens, Stendhal, Shelly. Books in Spanish, German, Russian, Books in what appeared to be Arabic and possibly Chinese, plus a few he didn't have any idea - probably Celtic of some sort, but nothing he could distinguish as being Irish or Welsh or Scottish. Books of bound sheet music. Journals, again in what was probably Celtic, some with the paper and ink fresh and clean, others so old to make the reading a difficult process. Garden layouts for the past several years, plans for expansion, reviews of various plants and varieties. It was obvious this was a library that was used, not one for show; there were books stacked by the chair, a couple on the small table as you came into the room. Notes were pinned on a board, all helter skelter, along with color chips, lists, seed packets with notes. A calendar had a multitude of entries, none of which he could read. The desk had an box holding various files and was obviously in use as well. From his position, he could see a holster attached to the bottom of the desk, pistol firmly in place. Curiouser and curiouser.

The coffee did help clear his head, every spoon-melting drop of it, it being mellowed with enough heavy cream to make him smile, accompanied by thick toast lightly buttered with cherry jam off to the side, along with the two aspirin she'd handed him with a glass of water; seeing Casino up and moving around, though with a plaster over a gash on the side of his forehead and a raw graze around his throat, well that helped the headache too. Last he'd seen of the safecracker had not been a very encouraging picture. The massaging of that special creme on his neck and shoulders and legs and ribs, something she said was a comfrey and arnica mixture she made up special, that helped the rest of him, though he wasn't totally comfortable with her doing the massaging since she'd insisted he strip to his briefs before she started.

"Lieutenant," she'd told him impatiently, "from what we saw, you have bruises on top of bruises, and I can hardly tend them with your uniform on. Stop being foolish! I'll send the creme back with you for you to tend to any spots I miss, but we might as well get you on the right track now." It made him a little uneasy, even with Goniff perched there as chaperone, chattering away like he tended to do, but the young woman had been very matter-of-fact about the whole business. Well, she'd explained she had four brothers, and tending their hurts was something she was well used to.

"'Gaida says after the war she wants to move all this over to the next cottage, where she can 'ave lots more shelves so she 'as room for all the others she 'as in storage now; may just take the whole cottage for the job. Can't rightly see 'ow there could be more, but she says this is just a mite, just w'at she needed to keep on 'and, plus a few favorites. Think she might give Actor a run for the money, Warden, they ever get talking books."

Garrison answered as he lay there feeling the pain and tension in his body drift away with the deep firm movements of her strong hands, "that would be something to see, Meghada. Maybe you can take him down a notch; it would probably be good for him."

She laughed softly, "I've read a lot, surely, but I don't remember the way he seems to, certainly not enough to match him quote for quote. For me, it's been enough to read, learn and enjoy, and know where I can come back to it when I've a notion to. My mind seems to have enough to handle without trying to memorize all I've read. Now, music? That's a different story; can remember most any song I've ever heard, and that's a mixed blessing, Lieutenant, let me tell you, for there's a good many that don't warrant the remembering! Like that one Goniff and Casino were performing the other night, what was it? 'Charlotte the Harlot'? Though I admit that was hardly worse than the one before, 'The Whores of San Pedro'."

Garrison leaned up on his forearms to give a hard glare at the wiry blond sitting backwards on that chair, getting only a wide grin and a wiggle of expressive brows in return. Craig shook his head and laid it wearily back in place; somehow repentence didn't seem to be on Goniff's calendar for today. He didn't refuse when she handed him a jar of that creme to take with him when they left to head back to the Mansion; he had to admit it felt damned good and seemed to relieve both the deep aches and the surface tenderness.

He noticed Casino wasn't doing much talking about what happened, and when they were alone, he'd asked, more than a little worried about what he'd hear. Casino had just said, "told em we got jumped; that's pretty much what they saw anyway, us being worked over. They were pretty far away, you know, when they saw us," he looked over out of the corner of his eye, "too far away to hear anything. Then they came rushing in, and those guys, they took off before THEY could say anything." Garrison hadn't wanted to ask about that, but was more than a little relieved. He knew Actor had heard the same version, and he relaxed. Well, he relaxed as much as he could.

It had been an unsettling night in more ways than one, and he'd just as soon put it all out of his mind. They'd reported it to the Constable, of course, but there was no trace of the four men who'd attacked them, "probably with robbery as the motive; can't imagine any other reason". It was decided that, just like he'd been told, the four ran, got away and went streaking out of town, so other than alert the Constables of the surrounding villages, there wasn't a lot to be done.

Nellie and Josie were shocked, of course, and extremely solicitious when the men came back to the pub. And while they were appalled at the men getting hurt on the way back from walking them home, they did discuss between the two of them what might have happened if they'd headed home alone that night; they'd heard the talk on the grapevine too. As Nellie had put it over coffee, "probably saw they didn't have a chance at us, what with the guys being along, and decided to take it out on them for interfering," and Josie had to agree.

Lou did think it interesting that there were no more reports of barmaids and such getting attacked, at least not like those three he'd heard of. Sometimes he thought on that, thought of that night, Goniff, Chief and the O'Donnell lass headed out after asking about that four, hearing the whole story, that the four assailants had high-tailed it out of town in their car. He thought about it a lot, but didn't say anything. Somethings a man was better off not knowing, after all, and just as much with not telling all he knew or thought he might know. {"And it's not like those four, if they were those hurting those women, like they were any loss."}.

In fact, that thought spurred him to standing the whole table to a round, the team and the O'Donnell lass. In answer to the jovial inquiry as to the occasion, he just smiled, "oh, no particular reason, Lieutenant, just seemed like a good idea. A way to tell you we're glad you are all here and appreciate your business."

Garrison tried to put that whole night out of his mind, though he did have the occasional doubt about the story he'd been told so earnestly. And he wasn't sure why that was, as nothing was said, no looks cast his or Casino's way that might point in that direction, no feeling of dire secrets being kept. Everything seemed just as it had been before. But still, something seemed to be teasing at his memory, some word, some sound, some thing, just hovering out of reach.

There was one strong reminder, though, a few days later when he and Casino were alone looking over some maps. Casino had asked about his injuries, had been assured by Garrison he was doing just fine, just some leftover bruises. "That's good," the safecracker had said. They worked on the maps for awhile, and Casino broke the silence, "oh, Warden, just one more thing bout that night." When Garrison looked over, since Casino hadn't continued that sentence, he got a fist upside his jaw, sending him onto his ass on the floor.

Garrison surged to his feet, "just what the hell???!" to get a stony faced reply, "you ever do anything like that again, offering yourself up if they let me go, I'll beat the crap outta you, you hear me??! Wouldn't a worked then, wouldn't work any other time, not with guys like that! You may be the Warden, you're not my mother! You got that??!" Garrison worked his jaw carefully, hoping he still had something left in that jar of comfrey mixture Meghada had sent home with him; maybe he'd stop and see if she had another jar he could have; it would undoubtedly come in handy around here.

"Yeah, I got it."

Casino gave a hard nod, "alright, then." And they got back to business as usual. 

Garrison had gradually come to remember those forgotten words from that night, words spoken in a woman's voice, "don't worry; I'll take care of them". Knowing Meghada, that could mean a lot of things, some of which he didn't particularly want to think about. Still, he told himself she was referring to Casino and him, that she'd take care of tending to their injuries. "Yes, that's all she meant," he told himself firmly and resolved to put it out of his mind. 

They were in the Common Room, him, the team, Meghada's younger brother Ian, who'd just flown in, brought them a gift, "something special from up Haven way; our sister Caeide thought you might enjoy it." Well, considering 'it' was a big basket containing a tin of some special sea-air-car sickness herbs for Goniff, all made up into little cheesecloth pouches he could carry with him and just tuck into his cheek (something they all appreciated!), a batch of thick sweet biscuits and another of hearty herb crackers, a dinner plate sized round of sharp cheddar cheese and and half of a home-cured ham, yes, they most certainly would!

"You headed over to see Meghada? Think you might have missed her; heard she was headed out last night."

"Well, then, I'll have to see her next time. Hand this sheet music to her, if you will; Caeide came across it and thought she might enjoy it," handing them a sheaf of paper from inside his jacket. "Oh, and if you could tell her from me, the Gam Caimileir's greatly enjoyed the special treat she sent them and send their thanks?" He was assured they would, after they made him spell that for them and Actor jotted it down, and thanked him for bringing them the basket from Haven. He laughed off their thanks, "that's part of the pleasure of my job, you know, delivering such welcome treats as your basket, and all the other little oddments that need deliverying around."

Meghada had accepted the sheet music and the message with an easy smile and her thanks, nothing out of the ordinary, but Garrison had felt a little uneasy about that brief glimmer in her eyes. 

Doc Riley was the one who filled in that uneasy space in Garrison's mind. He'd come to change bandages on Chief's arm, brought more salve for their various bruises and scrapes along with a refill for various items in the med kit, when for some reason that message came to mind.

"Doc, you're Irish, yes?" and AJ Riley grinned, "Irish, Welsh, Scots, and a bit else besides. Why?"

"I was just wondering. I heard a name and I thought it might be Irish, but wasn't sure." He looked for the slip of paper he'd laid on the fireplace mantel, failed to find it and looked around. Then he pulled a slip of paper off the point of one of the daggers on the wall, giving his guys a reproving look as he did so, "Gam Caimileir", handing the note over in case he was not remembering the pronounciation correctly.

Doc Riley looked a bit surprised, glanced at the paper, "Irish, yes, well, Celtic. Words, not a name, at least not any that I ever heard claiming it as that, but perhaps as a side name, a nickname, like your men all use, though perhaps unlikely with the 'gam' being at the front, 'gam' meaning family. You were close, Lieutenant; it's pronounced 'gam cam-a-lear'. Means sharks, a family of sharks."

Casino and Chief and Goniff shot quick glances at each other, then went back to what they'd been doing, Goniff ducking his head low to his chest, a slight trembling of his lips almost as if he was suppressing a grin, one hand supporting his head at the temple, fingers nervously scratching at his hair, eyes blinking rapidly. Chief looked even more impassive than usual; Casino seemed to be thinking about moving into that house detailed in the excrutiatingly bad painting on the side wall from the intensely focused expression on his face. Actor was the only one who seemed to be listening to the conversation, and him with perhaps a somewhat detached academic interest.

Riley left, and Garrison thought about it a little, looked around the room at his men, all studiously engaged in the chess board, that odd game of solitaire, the details of a painting so bad no one had bothered to move it to the locked side of the Mansion, Actor raising a brow as if asking what was going on. Garrison rethought that message now in the light of the translation, 'the shark family has greatly enjoyed the special treat you sent them and sends their thanks.' He though of Ian smiling, telling them it was part of the pleasure of his job to deliver welcome treats.

He swallowed, looked around again, silence prevailing in a room rarely experiencing quiet, not with his guys in here. He wandered into the library, pulled out one of the more fanciful books of maps, one with symbols and drawings indicating things of special interest in a locality. He turned to the coastline of Wales, where he knew Haven was located, looked at the symbols. Tiny sheep, tiny sheaves of grain, tiny fruit trees, tiny metal buckets, tiny whales further out into the blue water, and yes, lots and lots of tiny sharks along the cliffsides. He felt someone at his shoulder, "a problem, Craig?"

"Actor, the guys told you what happened that night we got mugged taking the ladies home."

"Yes, of course."

"You get the feeling maybe it didn't happen exactly the way they said?"

Actor looked at his team leader, looked at that map, at where Garrison's finger was still resting, and his lips trembled just a bit, "no, not in the least. I had the feeling they were being most forthcoming."

Garrison looked up at him, just a bit of a frown, and then shook his head and sighed, "I think I need to get more sleep; I'm starting to imagine the damnest things." He closed the book of maps, put it back on the shelf and went to call it a night.

Actor stood there, puffing on that aromatic pipe of rich tobacco, remembering those overheard, far too easily interpreted nightmares when he and Garrison had been waiting out a long night on the mission following that 'mugging'. Nightmares he'd at first thought were about that Gestapo Major and his Aide, and perhaps they'd started that way, but then, well, then the scene shifted, and more words had been wrenched from Garrison's sleeping mind, and Actor had formed his own opinion of that 'mugging'.

A look of slightly amused appreciation now filled his face. "A Family of Sharks. How . . . appropriate. How . . . efficient. How . . . Meghada!" And a deep chuckle came from his chest, as he shook his head and headed back to the Common Room. He paused at the door, surveying the knowing looks each of the three men were giving to each other, gave a little cough and said, "I seem to have come across a rather fine old bottle of cognac. Perhaps you gentlemen would like to join me? Perhaps we can find something appropriate to drink to. Friendship, perhaps; maybe efficiency." And though they kept the laughter low so as not to draw the Warden back to the room, it was laughter most sincerely felt and expressed.


End file.
